


First Christmas

by oneworldaway



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Not Missing Scene so much as Missing Entire Relationship, Pond Family Fic, Prompts Gone Wrong, Thanks Moffat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneworldaway/pseuds/oneworldaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Does it need a bandage?” she asked gently, observing the way he held his injured hand as she shut the door.</p><p>“River?”</p><p>She smiled at him warmly. “Hello, Dad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the "Christmas music" prompt from [this](http://promptsgonewrong.tumblr.com/post/69196766740/prompts-gone-wrong-christmas-prompts-2) Prompts Gone Wrong post on Tumblr, and my disappointment that River and Rory's relationship was never really explored in canon. Lyrics taken from the song "Last Christmas" by Wham!, naturally. Unbeta'd. Takes place between "The Wedding of River Song" and "The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe."

           _Last Christmas I gave you my heart  
          But the very next day you gave it away_

 _Aren’t we through with the Christmas songs yet?_ thought Rory, waiting for the light to change. Two days had passed since Christmas, but as far as Rory was concerned, it could’ve been weeks; already he felt like getting on with it and taking down their tree. They’d probably leave it up until New Year’s, though, rather than admit out loud just how little holiday spirit they’d been feeling.

Rory had taken Christmas Day off, but gone right back to work on the 26th. It had been a particularly rough week, too, and it was beginning to take its toll on him. The endless Christmas music wasn’t helping. (Perhaps next year he _wouldn’t_ try to stop Amy from threatening the carol singers with a water pistol.)

It felt like the radio was taunting them. So many nights they’d sat together in silence, trying to stave off the feeling of emptiness that’d been creeping up on them ever since the first Christmas displays had gone up in the shops. It made them both feel guilty, because didn’t they have each other? After everything they’d been through, how hard they’d both fought to reach each other, wasn’t being together enough? Of course, he still believed that he loved Amy more and more every day; each morning, waking up next to her, and each night beside her was brand new, and sometimes it still took his breath away, knowing how lucky he was to have her.

But turning onto their street now, he should’ve felt his heart swell to see the home they shared just up ahead. He would have, normally. But as December had dragged on, he’d begun returning to his own home feeling defeated. Only wrapped in Amy’s arms, her fingers carding through his hair and tracing nonsensical patterns across his back, could he find the sense of peace that used to permeate their entire home. But as he left work, drove home (in the car the Doctor had given him), and walked through the front door (to the house the Doctor had bought them), even knowing who he was coming home to couldn’t dull the feeling of dread that started in the pit of his stomach and bored its way into his bones. (Because even the Doctor hadn’t been able to give them back the one thing they cared about most.)

He parked the car and paused, setting his hands against the dashboard, lowering his head, and taking a deep breath.

           _Tell me baby, do you recognise me?  
          Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me_

Shaking, Rory punched the car radio before his mind could catch up to the movement of his limbs. It seemed to cause more visible damage to his hand than to the dashboard, but the music stopped abruptly.

He loved Amy. But he also loved their daughter, and he was finally, truly beginning to understand that nothing would fill the Melody-shaped hole in their hearts.

The door to his car opened, and Rory was startled out of his struggle not to cry as, much to his surprise, the very person he’d been longing to see settled into his passenger seat.

“Does it need a bandage?” she asked gently, observing the way he held his injured hand as she shut the door.

“River?”

She smiled at him warmly. “Hello, Dad.”

“What are you doing here?” he blurted dumbly, not quite the way he’d meant to greet her in the event that she showed up.

“I could ask you the same,” she said, “sat in your car in the cold and the darkness right outside your own house.”

“You’ve come all the way from...who knows where,” Rory countered. “You first.”

“Well it’s Christmas, isn’t it?” said River brightly. “Of course I came.”

Rory looked at her for a long moment, searching her face for a hint of anything else, but finding nothing. She really had just come home for Christmas.

“It’s December 27th,” he said, turning to stare down at his hands. She’d come to see them, just as they’d been wishing she would. He couldn’t let her see that a part of him went on aching, anyway.

“Oh,” said River. “I’m sorry I’m late, then.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry...”

She moved to place her hand over his, hovering over his scraped knuckles for a moment before grasping his other hand. And she waited.

“I’ve been taking on some extra shifts at the hospital lately,” he told her slowly, still looking down. “Amy agreed that I should. Everyone always wants time off for the holidays, so they appreciate it when someone volunteers to pick up the slack. I only got Christmas Day off because one of the others insisted. Said it’s important not to miss a holiday in the first few years of a marriage.” He sighed shakily. “I’m grateful. I didn’t want to leave Amy alone on Christmas. Especially not this year.”

River didn’t push him, but she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, and in spite of everything, a feeling of relief blossomed somewhere deep inside of him.

“A lot of them have kids at home,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “It’s sort of expected that the rest of us stay at work so they can spend the holidays with their families.”

He returned her gaze at last, and his eyes looked more tired than River had ever seen them before. “I’m sorry," he said. "It’s the first Christmas since...”

It was River’s turn to look away, for fear of saying the wrong thing and overstepping. She’d had a little more time to get used to everything, but this was all still new to Rory. She was constantly toeing the lines between childhood friend, fellow time traveller, and daughter, and she made it appear effortless - by always moving slowly, calculating what would be appropriate to say to whatever versions of her parents she met, never pushing them too hard or revealing too much. It was different before, when they were kids. She’d put on the act so well, she’d almost believed it herself at times. But everything was different now, and each time they met, everything was new, even if they were (sort of) the same people they’d always been.

“It’s been 276 days for us,” said Rory. “Since you were born.”

“Rory...”

“I couldn’t protect you,” he said. “Either of you. They took you from us, and I couldn’t put our baby back into Amy’s arms. I can’t fill the space in our lives where our baby is supposed to be, and I can’t undo what they did to you.” River could almost hear his heart breaking. “You _died_ and regenerated twice, and I couldn’t stop it. I failed you.”

He was on the verge of tears, but a small smile crept across River’s face, puzzling him. She shifted a bit closer to him. “Do you remember that time you found me smoking behind the school?”

Rory looked taken aback. “Yeah,” he said, frowning. “I went looking for you because Amy and I hadn’t seen you all morning.”

“I was on probation with the school, as you and Amy were well aware,” River continued. “One more transgression and they’d be ready to chuck me out, and smoking on school property was most definitely a transgression.”

“But a teacher caught us,” Rory recalled, remembering how they’d heard footsteps while he tried to convince Mels to come inside.

“Yes,” said River. “And what did you do?”

“I took the cigarette from your hand before the teacher could see, so you wouldn’t get expelled. I said I’d been smoking.”

“You got detention,” River finished. “And I got to stay at our school.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ve always been protecting me.”

“But that was different,” said Rory, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t,” said River simply. “And you forget that our school days are more recent for me than my infancy. Demon’s Run has only just happened for you, but it’s been a lifetime for me. I remember all the times you stuck up for me and kept me out of trouble far more clearly than any of what happened when I was a baby. And I cherish those memories.”

Rory looked right into her eyes, taking in everything he could about his daughter, this woman he felt like he barely knew even as he remembered spending so much of his life with her. It still hurt, and it always would. But just having her here calmed him, and he could feel that relief spreading throughout him, warming him, like a sip of a hot drink after coming in from the cold.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get inside. Mother will be waiting for you, and we’re going to have to tend to that hand.”

“Right,” said Rory, finally climbing out of the car after a moment’s pause. River got out, too, and made her way to the front steps, but before she could reach the door, she was halted by Rory pulling her into his arms. Tentatively, he rested his chin on her shoulder, and cupped the back of her head with his sore hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. For not being able to save her when she was a baby. For letting her die alone on the streets of New York City when she was just a child, regenerating all by herself. For not being able to raise her. For letting her see him like this now.

“It’s alright,” she said, softly as the snow that fell on their heads. She hugged him back tightly.

~

They moved to the living room after dinner, while Amy went to put the kettle on. River was contemplating getting up to join her when Rory interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you remember the time you made me skip school with you?” he asked.

River nodded, her eyes sparkling. It was the first time - in his timeline, at least - he’d ever directly acknowledged that she was the same person as Mels without any prompting from her. “We went to the cinema.”

“I didn’t like to miss school,” he went on, “but you insisted, and I figured someone ought to keep an eye on you. I thought you might try to steal a car or hitchhike your way to London to go on a bender, or something. But you only wanted to see a film.”

She smiled fondly at him. “Amy and I were always gallivanting about, searching for our next adventure. Which wasn’t an easy task in Leadworth,” she noted, and Rory chuckled, remembering how they’d stretched their imaginations to their very limits trying to find things to do growing up in their tiny village. “You were the responsible one. It was harder to pull you into my schemes. But I wanted to spend some time with you, too.”

Rory needed a moment to collect himself. “I’m glad you did,” he said, once he trusted his voice again.

“So am I,” River replied.


End file.
